| Lonely boy gazing on the afternoon
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| People drifting cross the surface of the twilight day
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| There’s a Little Yellow Man, standing by the railway station
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| Painting portraits on the brick — walls of Billie Holloway
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| Lovely Lady S. M. I. L. E
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| Dance, my dear, I’m only operating on «Lassie Come Home»
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| «This was authentic you» she spoke
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| «this was authentic you who blew me cold»
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| He had no chance to realize
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| It hit her straight between the eyes
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| So I’ve been told
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| In the park, she’s giving out some photographs
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| On which she’s giving out some photos of what she hands around
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| «They videod a ghost tonight», she said before I turned it out
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| «It rode an orange paper — bike, and left without a sound. |
| «Keep on riding, Sir
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| Open up the door and shout it out:
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| «Lassie Come Home, Come Home!!»
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| «This was authentic you?» |
| she spoke, «this was authentic you who blew, who blew
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| Me cold»
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| I had no chance to realize
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| It hit her straight between the eyes
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| So I’ve been told
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| Lonely Girl dancing in the music — hall
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| Lightning struck her silver starship and turned it into stone
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| And now it’s falling all the time into that void beyond her gray eyes
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| Somewhere a telephone is ringing, but nobody’s at home
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| «Hello Junkie — Sweetheart, listen now
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| This is your Captain calling:
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| Your Captain is dead. |
| «Keep on riding, Sir, open up the door
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| And shout it out — shout it out…
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| Lassie come home — Lassie come home Lassie come home — Lassie come
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| Home… |